


Open Hearts

by demospheric_comrades (orphan_account)



Category: Mork & Mindy
Genre: Adoption, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/demospheric_comrades
Summary: Mork and Mindy go through the ringer volunteering at an orphanage, and then trying to adopt a human child. Long Oneshot.





	Open Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Figured one of my favorite shows finally deserved a work from me. I actually liked them trying to raise a grown-up child with Mearth, and I'm not overlooking that, but I thought they'd be just as good parents to a human child too. Not all my stories are gonna be about parents and kids, sure, but I needed to get one more out of me.

Three years had gone by since Mork and Mindy's first baby came into the world. Baby, well, that was a rough term, since Mearth had emerged from his egg weighing over 200 pounds and looking sixty years old. But Orkans aged fast. In that first year, he had gone from just learning how to walk to loving baseball and riding tricycles like any regular child. His second year, he took up an active interest in science and had gotten his first brown hair. Now closer to looking forty-five in Earth years, Mearth was ready for the big time. An Orkan university. Orson had personally funded everything on behalf of his favorite godchild.

But for Mindy, who'd needed time to adjust to her son's strange alien life cycle from the start, it was still all happening too fast.

"I don't know, Mork," she deliberated to herself, pacing around the room, after he'd suggested Orson's school of choice would be best for Mearth. "Having him live at a private college on Ork...that's a pretty big step. And he wouldn't be able to come home if he wanted to, not if it's full-time. What if he's homesick?"

"Oh, Mind, he's not a prisoner. He's a college student. I know those can be hard to tell apart sometimes...especially when it comes to cafeteria food. But anytime he gets lonely for Earth, I bought him a box of souvenirs." Mork set down the large cardboard box he had been carrying this whole time, and pulled out items Mindy had been curious to see.

"Here's one of Lady Liberty. Here's the Eiffel Tower. This one's a book about Einstein. This is a shirt with Abe Lincoln on rollerskates...or maybe it's John Travolta..." He unfurled it, hoping the image would make her laugh. Mindy only gave a resigned half-smile.

So he brought out the big guns: the googly-eye glasses. "And these are for when he sees a pretty girl at college for the first time...wow!" he yelled, letting the eye-springs bounce. Mindy finally laughed, but eventually she transitioned back to sighing, and sat down on the couch sadly.

Pushing the funny glasses up into his hair, he sat down next to her, holding her hand. "Mind, this is a pretty big opportunity. Better than I had. Orson says his work is going to be really important for the future of Ork someday. That **he'll** be really important. Well, we both know he already is. He'll be okay."

She was grateful for him trying to reassure her, but still mulling it over in her brain made her feel worse and worse every minute. "Oh, I know, Mork. But I can't help being selfish, I'd miss him. My baby all alone by himself in space."

"He'll have tons of new friends to play with and have fun. His school's awful."

"What? Mork! Even you don't like it? Why send him there?"

"No, no, AWFUL. The Academy of World Future United Leaders. Plenty of people go into politics there, or at least they think they do, but we've raised him better than that. It's one of the greatest schools for Orkan scientific research, and he'll be able to play with all the tools, toys, and radioactive waste he wants!" At Mindy's immediate concerned look, he toned it down. "Safely, safely." he added. "But he'll be really happy there. And he won't burn down our kitchen. In the case of AWFUL's kitchens, that'd be an improvement."

"AWFUL sounds...pretty incredible." Mindy knew that continuing to fight against it would do no good: Mearth wouldn't say no to an offer like that. She only hoped that he was ready. And that **she** was. "It's just that it's...I mean, **six** years of college! That's even longer than he's been with us for. When he comes back, do you think he'll even recognize us? What if he looks different? What if we don't recognize him? Orkans age down pretty fast, even if he is half-human."

"That human part is exactly why he's gonna remember and love you forever, Mind." Mork reassured her. "And yeah, maybe I'll have grown a new zit or two by the time he gets back, and he's probably going to be in a mid-life crisis listening to 'Margaritaville' nonstop. But it's what he wants, and we have to be there for him. When he gets back, when he leaves, when he's not even here."

"If it's what Mearth wants, then I'll support it completely. Oh..." She got up, trying her best not to be cliche and wring her hands in despair, but she still felt too anxious to stay still. "I just haven't lived without him in so long. Do you think we could even adjust to that?"

"Hey, don't worry. I'll set off firecrackers in the attic and leave piles of lab coats and chemicals everywhere, so it still feels like he's home." Mindy allowed herself to finally give in and giggle at that, and she hugged him. Life had thrown her some odd curveballs before, but in the case of Mork and her son, they'd all turned out for the best. She had to trust in this new one again, and hope that Ork's colleges were a lot more forgiving than Earth's.

* * *

Even though it'd hadn't taken long for things to get relatively calmer at the McConnell house - well, as much as they could be, with Mork still following his mission to discover new things every day about Earth, and new ways to get into trouble - after six months Mindy still felt like six years was going to be an eternity without her son. Mork had his work to keep him busy, but it seemed like even her job wasn't enough. Some days she would come home to an empty house, and for all the love she still had from her husband and family, some days she thought she was going to cry during any moment she had alone.

She needed to be out. Working. Doing something important for somebody, like Mork was. She'd expressed the idea to Mork without any real inkling of what she wanted yet, but one day when she'd least expected it, he'd answered her prayers.

"Mindy!" Mork ran into the house after spending all day in a blizzard, shutting the door behind him. "I found something amazing!" He still had frost on his nose, and Mindy made him stay still for one second so she could wipe it off with her sleeve.

"What it is, Mork?"

"Well, you remember how last week we didn't get any mail?"

"Yes."

"And the week before that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I found the mailman." Going behind the couch, he brought out an entire mailbag, with letters threatening to spill over out the top. "The whole town hasn't been getting any letters."

"Mork!" Mindy stood back as he dumped the contents onto their coffee table, fishing through letters. "Where on earth did you find all this?"

"Grover's Taproom. Two towns from here. The mailman thought I was a bouncer, or a very large dog, and gave me this to pay off his tab." 

"Well, he must have been very drunk. You don't look anything like a bouncer. And as far as a dog...well, at least you're not rabid." Mindy kneeled down to sort through letters herself. "Okay, let's find our mail, but as soon as that's done we've got to take this back to the post office."

"No time for that, Mind." Mork pulled a letter out of the pile, apparently the one he'd been looking for, and shoved it into Mindy's hands while he scurried up and grabbed the overflowing sack. "I've got to get this mail to everyone's houses, tonight."

"In this weather? This late? Mork, that's awful nice, but you'll freeze to death."

"It's all right. I've got a report to make to Orson this week about human mortality, so a win-win either way." He chuckled, but then stopped one her expression of disbelief still hadn't changed. "You're right, that was dark. Still mastering that aspect of Earth humor. I'm actually doing an advanced study on freezing temperatures, though, so it will be helpful." With that, he rushed back towards the door. "If I don't come back...you're the best thing to ever happen to me. If I do come back...well, that's still true. Save dinner for me!" Blowing a kiss, he rocketed back into the icy gale outside and slammed the door. Mindy stared in surprise, but not really shock - Mork had definitely done far riskier things, and his intentions were always kind. She made a mental note to herself to take a drive outside later, in case she found him frozen solid a block away.

In the meantime, she opened the letter he'd put in her hands. It was from an Open Hearts Children's Center, somewhere outside town. Inside was a letter, which seemed standardized for many members of the surrounding area based on the introduction.

_Dear Valued Member of Our Community,_ it said, _we are a local organization for needy children that is looking for volunteers and donations. We have been established in this area for over 19 years, but have fallen on harder times due to financial struggles and a lack of sponsorship and volunteers. With your help, we can give our kids everything they deserve and more. Please consider giving your time and money to our Open Hearts children in need. Call our number..._

This was it. Now Mindy knew why Mork had singled it out. Volunteering! This would be a perfect way to not only spend time outside the house where she felt so lonely (and around children!), but to fill a need to help the community. Hoping their lines were still open, she called the number right away. It went to a voice message system, with a pleasant-sounding older woman's voice on the other end. She waited for the tone.

"Hello, my name is Mindy McConnell, I'm calling about the Open Hearts volunteer opportunity. I'd love to be a part of working for your organization, and was wondering how soon I could start. I also have a husband who might be interested..."

Mork would definitely be interested, she knew that. He loved children. And maybe if he was busy volunteering with her, she could keep a closer eye on him so he wouldn't be running off to bars in blizzards. Even then, that wasn't the craziest thing he'd done this week, which only proved her point. Mearth had brought some stabilization to their lives as parents, and they both needed it again. Work - and working with children - would be the fix. She left her name and number for the nice lady on the other end and hung up, hoping that this opportunity would come soon.

In the meantime, Mork probably needed a ride home...

* * *

 

Three days later, after getting a call back from the same good-natured older woman who Mindy had assumed ran things, they found out that she in fact did, and was willing to hire them right away. No pay, no set hours, only whatever time and energy they could provide. Mindy wanted to stay and help as long as possible, and Mork was right behind her with his support.

Showing up at the front door of quite a large-looking neo-Victorian house, they were greeted by a woman in a green dress, with grey hair in a tousled bun and thick-framed glasses hanging off the end of a sharp nose. "Ah, so you're the McConnell pair. Quite happy to meet you, quite quite happy." Her voice sounded nasally and perpetually happy, just as it had over the phone. She eagerly shook hands with Mindy. "Mrs. Milligan. I'm the head of this organization. The owner, really. This is my house."

"It's very lovely." Mindy complimented, then gestured to Mork smiling behind her. "This is my husband. Mork." She waited for the inevitable double-take that people usually did when first hearing it, but Milligan didn't seem to mind.

"Mork. Short and sweet. Just like my first husband. I'd explain that further, but...well, there's kids present." She snorted as she chuckled to herself, and Mork laughed too. Mindy smiled, but was a little surprised as well. Milligan said the place was in dire straights...was she really always this cheerful?

"Come in, come on in. Speaking of the kids, they'd all love to meet you." She led them inside, to a foyer with great light and a lot of space for children to run around to their heart's content if they wanted to. "They're in the parlor with the toys. I'll introduce you after you've gone over some waivers with me, of course."

"Waivers?"

"Of course. It's all a part of the process. I don't let my kids meet anybody new if they're not going to stay. I don't like drifters."

This seemed reasonable, but also a little...foreboding. Vaguely threatening was the word. Mindy has hoped this place would be a dream come true, without any awkwardness or caveats. Apparently they weren't to be avoided. But Mork was none the wiser; he seemed thrilled about the place, and kept talking while Milligan nodded.

"This is almost like a castle. A lot of kids must love living here."

"Mm-hm. More or less. I try to make it comfortable."

"With the ceilings in this place, the kids could sing Aeida." 

Milligan chuckled. "Some of them do. We try to encourage a lot of freedom and creativity here. Which usually means running, screaming, and smashing. But if anything breaks, I pay for it. Or at least sweep it up under the rug."

"Must be a heck of a rug. The doormat to this place already looked like a polar bear."

"Polar bears? I don't believe in them. They don't exist. Yetis, on the other hand...we have quite a few rugs made of those around here."

Mindy figured she'd handle the business talk. Mork was too in love with the place - which was good, especially if they were going to work here. And it had been her idea. But Milligan, as much as she clicked with Mork's manic energy, was harder for her to read.

"Mork, why don't you go play with the kids while Mrs. Milligan and I talk papers?" she said aside to him. Looking back towards Milligan, who was standing at the end of an office door waiting patiently, she smiled sunnily and turned her attention back to him. "Go on. I'll be right back."

As Mork went to the right, where Mindy knew he'd put on a good show while she stalled for time, she walked into the room and Milligan closed the door behind her. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was full of dark wood paneling, with no windows and barely any light.

"Gosh, it's very...cozy, in here, isn't it?" she said, sitting down in a starkly uncomfortable square wooden chair at the other end of Milligan's desk. "I think having a window would bring a lot of natural light to this part of the house, don't you think?"

Milligan tapped her fingers on the end of the table silently, breathing deeply - a very unnerving combination of sounds. Mindy swallowed. This was more like being in a principal's office for detention than in a bright sunny childcare center. 

"Mrs....Milligan? I believe I'm saying that right. What does the paperwork you want me to sign inc-"

"Ms. Milligan. I'm afraid I mislead you before." she interrupted, though not as tersely as Mindy was expecting. More resigned "I haven't been Mrs Milligan since my second husband died. He's the one who helped me found the place. He was buried here."

"Oh, I'm...that's..." Mindy stammered for a moment. But then, unexpectedly, Milligan smiled again. Briefly. 

"I don't like to give people an easy time when they arrive here, but maybe that's undeserving. Many of my previous employees and volunteers have walked out without a word, right when these kids needed them. I've gotten somewhat used to disappointment, but I don't have to accept it." She pushed a couple stapled sheets of paper forward towards Mindy, with a pen. "Hence the contract. And this room. This sort of motif usually scares any would-be slackers off. But you seem a decent type. If a little...normal."

"Is that really so bad?" Mindy blurted out instinctively. She wished there was a way for Milligan to turn up the lights, as she could barely see the words of the paper she was trying to read. But since the atmosphere was still so tense, she didn't want to push her.

"Not really. I've just never been used to it. Most of the children here aren't normal. I'm not normal. This house isn't normal, it's haunted by the ghost of my dead husband and you're sitting in his chair in the room he died in..."

Mindy felt her heart stop, and looked up at Milligan in horror. But once again - unexpected as always - Milligan was smiling, without a hint of darkness or malice. "I'm sorry, instinctive lying. It's another story I tell the drifters if they get too comfortable around me. I'm actually in his chair. I won't let anyone else touch it."

"That's...well, you must miss him very much." Mindy choked out. Milligan sighed, and thankfully reached over to the dim lamp to turn up the light. Sitting this close to her face, Mindy could make out plenty of tiny wrinkles, stress lines, dark circles, even some scars along her eyebrows and cheeks. Maybe the lighting now was too harsh...

"I'm not old, you know. Not really." Milligan said, almost reading her mind. "I'm forty-three, and I look like I'm ancient. Children don't seem to mind, they tell me what an old bat I am and laugh. That way I can laugh, too." She rubbed her lined forehead with a finger. "I'm sorry for not being clear with you. It's been a hard couple weeks for me. I'm running this place all on my own, ever since my last few volunteers quit. I don't like people coming in and out of the children's lives. So if you're going to stay, I need you in it for the long haul. I may even talk about pay, at some point...once we actually start making anything."

Mindy was stunned, but she did her best to remain professional. "I understand you've been under stress. I'd like to help alleviate that stress if it's possible. I came here to do what I can to help." She did her best to convey to Milligan that she was sincere, she even looked past her thick glasses into her grey, cloudy eyes. "I would like to maybe meet some of the children first, before I put anything in writing. Just to see what they need. My husband and I have a son of our own. We know how important it is to take care of them; that's why we're here."

After a pause, Milligan slid her glasses forward up her nose again and stood up, heading for the door. "Quite right, too. I was never very good with people, or with business. But children - they mean everything to me. I'm thrilled to meet someone who's on the same page." She smiled again. "Let's never mind any paperwork, it's a silly idea with you. You'll be here every day, I can tell. And your husband-?"

Almost as if she'd been unaware he was gone this whole time, she looked around either side of Mindy and then around the room itself. Then, both could hear laughter and noise coming from down the hallway. "Seems he already has introduced himself. Good, he seems a natural fit." Milligan jauntily headed towards the designated playroom. "You say you're both parents?"

"Yes, our son just went off to college. I know we don't look that old to be-"

"Looks are deceiving, as we've already discussed. I'm forty and look like I'll die tomorrow. And I've never been pretty to begin with, but I've been kind. You could be a very old soul with a very young face. What matters is your energy and your heart." Mindy could hear some very new-age but still true advice influencing her tone, and she decided then and there that maybe Milligan wouldn't be such a bad boss after all. If a little...unusual. 

"Children, all right, listen up now! I"m sure you've already met one of them-" Milligan shouted immediately as she entered the room, and everybody stopped. Mindy was ecstatic to see Mork was blending in already, clambering over the couch as he and a bevy of children fought with balloon swords he probably made them. She couldn't help but smile. Milligan went on, unperturbed, which Mindy was grateful for. "-and now here's the missus. Mork and Mindy McConnell."

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, going to the orphanage and playing with the kids was Mindy's favorite part of every week, even if it was for only a couple hours every day on weekdays. Weekends, she was completely free, and very happy. They had missed Christmas before they'd started, but Mork always brought them presents every week he came in, and to her amazement memorized the names of every child. At home, they'd often go over a list, to brush Mindy up.

"Billy's the little boy with freckles. Brown hair, around seven. Wants to grow up to be Clint Eastwood. Loves donuts a little too much. Mark's the one who loves puppies and wears glasses. Katie's a Sagittarius, and her favorite book is Curious George Protests the Vietnam War."

Mindy pushed him playfully at the last one. "Be serious, Mork. I need to learn all this! It's almost awful that there's so many children there without parents willing to take care of them."

"It's not all bad, Mind. They've got us, and the ghost of Tom Milligan."

Mindy sat up. "What? Mrs. Milligan never told you her husband died. How do you know his name?"

"The children did. They've all seen him. He tucks them into bed at night and tells them scary people stories."

"Oh, please."

But it was hard for her to pretend that things were normal at Open Hearts. After all, wasn't 'normal' something Milligan had frowned upon? Still, she felt she'd do a better job if she was able to connect to the kids better...and her boss.

One day, as spring was finally on its way, they had taken the kids out to a local park and let them run wild. As she watched with Milligan from a distance, she felt like now would be a good time to talk with her about the job, alone.

"Ms. Milligan? I was hoping to talk with you about something-"

"Ruth."

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I realize I haven't been letting you call me by my name, when I've been calling you Mindy all this time. That's rather foolish, isn't it? Hierarchies be damned. Call me Ruth. It's rather an old name, which doesn't help my image, but call me it anyway."

"All right...Ruth." Mindy tested it out, and was satisfied. "I was hoping we could talk more about the children here. I'm still getting to know them, and it seems like they've been with you for an awfully long time."

"Yes, they have." Ruth smiled wistfully. "Many were brought to me as babies, and even then they couldn't find anyone to adopt them for years. Some came from broken homes, others ran. Either way, I'm all they have, and I take that responsibility very seriously. I'm lucky to be able to provide for them."

"Yes, the house...I kept wondering if it was yours or your husband's, but I didn't want to pry."

"It's mine. I inherited it, from my own parents. I didn't want it at first. Nor the money. They were very rich, but I felt it was at the cost of both their souls. Not like all rich people are that way," she amended. "I'm not. Immediately after getting the money and the home, I started up the orphanage. My husband died just as I was getting the papers to make it official by law, but I went on with it anyway."

"I'm so sorry."

Ruth turned her head sharply to look at Mindy, with glaring confusion. "I'm certainly not. It was the best thing I could have done with my life."

"No, I mean...about your husband."

Ruth sighed. "Yes, Tom. He was a good man. But an old man. Even older than I look now. It was bound to happen. But I never thought it would happen so soon. Just goes to show what can sneak up on you when you aren't prepared." Once again, Mindy tried to hide the shocked expression on her face at so blase a statement. But Ruth caught on. "I know that sounds harsh, but it's also true. And if I buried myself in grief, I wouldn't be able to dig myself out again. And I can't afford to. Not when these children need me. And some need all my attention possible."

Many of the children were playing with Mork or the others, but Mindy noticed a few nearby who were sitting in the grass or on benches by themselves. Ruth gestured to one of them. "Tommy's learning-disabled. Which doesn't make him stupid, not one bit, but he never focuses where he should. Or maybe he knows something we don't know."

"He likes beetles. Mork told me that, but I didn't know what kind."

"All kinds. The band, the bug, even the word. Beetles. It sounds horrible when I say it, don't I? With my voice?"

"Oh! No, it's...fine. I wish you wouldn't be so down on yourself."

"I have to. It keeps me sane." She gestured to another child, lying against a tree. "You'll need to keep an eye on Shelley whenever she sits down. Her legs aren't as developed, and doctors still can't quite tell why. It isn't polio. It may be that her parents never even taught her how to walk."

"That's horrible."

"Well for her, it probably isn't. She doesn't know any other way to be, and she's quite satisfied with the sunlight coming through those leaves. Who has time to burst that bubble for her? And who would want to be so cruel?" Another child, to the immediate left of them, was kicking his feet as he stared at the ground on a park bench. "Homer can't speak. We've been trying to teach him sign language to help with communicating with others, and teaching the other children too. But he's also painfully shy."

"Mork told me he likes dinosaurs. I didn't know about him being mute. So they must talk often enough." Mindy once again felt a wave of pride in how Mork was handling all of this. "I dragged him into this, and he's even better than I am. Well, he would be. He's always been amazing with kids."

"Quite." Ruth agreed. They both watched, silently once again, as a parade of children marched around a pole in some sort of game. Nearby, swinging on the swings alone and looking at her feet, was a little black girl with hair in pigtails. Her pink dress had sooty black stains that she could see even from here, and Mindy felt bad for instantly feeling sorry for her, and wondering why she'd never noticed her before for all these weeks.

"Molly likes hiding. Well, not likes it. Needs it."

It was almost as if Ruth had read her mind. Turning back towards her, Mindy saw Ruth looking at Molly too. "She came to us last year. Five years old, and not wanting to speak or to see another living soul. It took her months to work up the courage to come out of her room. She still won't go in the kitchen. She has her designated routes she limits herself to, a circle of safety and an even narrower circle of trust." Ruth looked up at Mindy, with less of a pitying stare in her eyes and more of a strong unbroken gaze, as if she were trying to make her understand something very important with each and every word.

"You have to understand their minds. You have to know what they've been through. They don't need spectators. They need patience. And care. And most of all, time to heal and grow. Molly...don't ask her her story. Please. That's the one thing you must do. Give her space and time. Don't force her into anything. Promise."

"I-I won't. Of course I won't." Mindy was taken aback once again at how solemn things had gotten. "But it'd be good to try and talk to some of these children still, wouldn't it? We shouldn't just leave them alone if they're sad."

"Go right ahead. But it's all up to them." 

Carefully as she could with this warning playing out in her mind, Mindy approached the swingset from the side, careful not to startle the little girl. "Molly? Can I sit next to you? It's very nice here." she asked sweetly. Molly nodded her head, not looking at her. Mindy sat down two swings away from her, giving her space but letting her know she was close.

"It's very nice here. There's lot of shade and sun at the same time. A real perfect balance." she mused. Molly kept quiet. Mindy thought she'd ask her a more harmless question than what was on her mind. "Do you like being outside?"

Molly didn't move her head, or speak. She stared out at the other children, some playing with Mork.

"Would you like to go over there with them? Looks like they're having fun, Molly."

Still no response. Mindy saw Ruth out of the corner of her eye, and Ruth signaled for her to move, before coming over. "We'll want to get everyone back to the house for lunch. I can't afford a meal out this time. But I've made everyone sandwiches back home." She turned to Molly. "Do you want a sandwich when we get back, Molly, or would you rather have something else?"

Mindy was curious how Ruth was going to get an answer for a question that wasn't just a yes-or-no, since so far Molly's only response had been to nod her head. But instead, Molly looked directly at Ruth and said, in a sure, stubborn voice "I want orange juice. Nothing with meat. Only cheese and lettuce."

"That's good. Good girl." Ruth reached out to her, and scooped up Molly in her arms. Mindy had never seen her pick up any of the other children, but wisely decided against asking further about it. Ruth turned her head towards her. "Circle of trust." she explained briefly, then said "Get everyone back home. I'll sort out meals. You two have earned a break as well, so feel free to eat anything you like. It's all fresh."

"Thank you. We might be heading home early today, if that's all right. After lunch."

"Very well. Thank you for your efforts." Once again, she turned to Molly. "Do you want to say thank you to Mindy?"

The child was torn between some loyalty to Ms. Milligan, and definite reservations towards Mindy, for quite a while. In the end, she nodded.

 "Good girl." Ruth walked away smiling with young Molly in her arms, leaving Mindy even less sure of herself then when she began.

* * *

 The final link in the chain for Mindy came on a very rare day: an adoption screening. It happened once Milligan came through the front door with a tall redheaded couple, a man and woman in very formal attire. The man wore glasses and had a long nose, and the woman had a fake fur coat and a cross around her neck. As they walked into the parlor, they smiled at the children sweetly. Instantly, they all stopped.

Milligan must have been surprised at the rare visit too, but she was hiding it well. Although there was still a sour pale over her face, and at the next sentence Mindy could see why. "Children, these are the Munsons. They weren't really supposed to come through here-" Ruth hinted, with a bit of emphasis towards the unaware couple. "-but feel free to say hello anyway before I take them aside."

Some muttered greetings. A few waved. Many looked at their shoes. Mindy saw a door open near the back of the crowd, and figured one of them had snuck away. Molly, it had to be Molly. 

"Excuse us." Ruth said to the room, walking in front of the couple and leading them aside to what Mindy had dubbed the Morgue. She had heard before that Ruth didn't like new people meeting the children before she'd had a chance to size them up, and now she was going to work overtime. But with such an off-putting vibe, would this couple even stick around? Mindy knew that if she was running this as a business, there'd be a lot she do differently.

But for now, she had to see where Molly had run off to. Going past the now dispersed children though the back door, she went down another hallway into some of the bedrooms for the boys and girls. Through an open door, she saw Molly sitting on a bed, reading a book. She knocked on the door softly.

"Molly?" she called out. Molly turned her head up, looked her in the eyes, and turned back again to read. Mindy took it as a good sign to come in. "Hello Molly. Did you want some time alone, or did something startle you? Ms. Milligan says you come here a lot."

Molly didn't respond. It would have needed words. Yes-or-no, Mindy reminded herself, that's all she's ready for right now. She edged closer to the bed, and she saw a couple letters of the book Molly was reading.

"Is that a good book?" she asked. Molly nodded. "Does it have animals or a princess?" Once again, Molly nodded. "Both?" A nod.

"It must be a fairy tale then. Those have a lot of princesses." She was about to suggest which ones it could be, off the top of her head, so that Molly could shake or nod once again. But this time, without looking at her, Molly did get a few words out.

"No. Girl. Castle. Not princesses."

The only non-monosyllabic word in the pile was 'princesses', but she could work with that. "That sounds interesting." said Mindy, smiling at her even though Molly wasn't even trying to look her way. "So the girl is magic?"

"Shoes are. Wizard. Witch. Wants the shoes. Stops her. Bucket of water on her head."

"Oh! The Wizard of Oz. I know that story, it's a very good one. Have you seen the movie?"

Head shake no. "Wouldn't want to. It'd ruin it."

"Oh, no, it's a very good movie. What makes you say that?"

Molly pointed to her head. "All up here. Pictures. Sounds. Would be different." She cleared her throat, only to go back to saying nothing. A pause hung in the air, as Mindy thought her words over. She remembered Ruth saying it took her a while to accept changes. But in Molly's own way, it made sense. Living in the world of a story could definitely bring a child hope, and Molly didn't want to change that reality in her head one bit.

"I think I know what you mean. I used to love reading a whole lot, even more than movies. I still do. I won't tell you how it ends, but it's very good." Mindy offered, as a way to break the silence.

"Already read it. Dorothy kills the witch. Water on her head." Molly smiled. "That's my favorite part."

"When she...oh, that's interesting. Not the city, or the Scarecrow, or-?"

"No. Witch. Dead. She deserves it."

Mindy thought about this for a while. "Hm. Well, I don't know about that. I don't think anyone deserves that, even a mean old witch. I've always thought that under that really mean exterior, there was something good that could have gotten out, if people in Oz had just given her a chance." Now Molly looked up, and Mindy smiled at her again. "There's a lot more good people than bad out there, and a lot more misguided people than truly evil people."

Molly seemed to think about this for a while too, but then buried her head in the book again decisively. "No. She's fire. Burns and hurts and laughs doing it. Nobody's good that hurts other people."

Mindy didn't know how exactly to respond to this, and was very relieved when she saw Ruth come up to the doorway and enter the room. "Good, you're here. You don't have to hide anymore, Molly. They've gone."

Mindy was shocked. "What, you...sent them away? They didn't adopt any children?"

"They weren't qualified. I didn't scare them," she explained, seeming to read Mindy's mind once again. "No contracts, just talking. They only want a certain kind of child, a Perfect Child. An Easy Child. Those don't exist. I told them to try the Twilight Zone."

"I-I mean it's your call. But they seemed like a perfectly nice couple to me."

"Perfectly nice and the ability to take care of children aren't the same thing. Most people who think they themselves are perfectly nice, should never have children. Come along." she said brusquely, gesturing Mindy towards the doorway. "I think Mork's halfway out the door chasing after an ice cream truck. Hurry or you'll miss it."

"I...all right." Mindy was stumped. There wasn't any point questioning Ruth further when she was so upset about the couple. That being said, Mindy had a lot of questions, and even more concerns. Exiting the room, she closed the door behind her, leaving Ruth and Molly alone. Once again, she heard Molly talking nonstop to Ruth through the door, and she felt a little uneasy. There was more at work here than Ruth was definitely letting on. 

* * *

 "It just doesn't seem right, Mork."

Mindy had waited until later that night over dinner to express her concerns, and hopefully get some advice. "Ruth seems like a good person, but she also turns away every couple that comes through the door if they don't meet her standards. That hurts her business, and hurts the children most of all."

"Maybe those two weren't such great parents. Earth's taught me many people are good, but some can have very different faces behind closed doors."

"That's just it. Doors and rooms, she never has any conversations out in the open. She can be scary behind closed doors too, Mork, but she's in charge of all those kids. And she likes you, but I get the feeling that it's rare if she likes anybody. If her reasons are entirely self-involved for not letting the kids be adopted, then it's wrong." Mindy picked at her pasta with a fork, frustrated. "I'd love to keep working there to be there for the kids, but if Ruth keeps this up, I'm seriously going to have to ask her some questions."

"About what?"

"About what? Well...who would she actually let adopt children? Her friends, someone she can trust? She's almost too suspicious of everyone for that. I don't know, Mork-" Mindy set the fork down, looking across the table desperately at him. "I'm all out of ideas on how to keep handling this. You get along with her much better on your own; what do you think we should do?"

"I always thought she liked you better."

This puzzled Mindy. "Really? Why's that?"

"She can be honest with you. If you've seen her at her worst, you know that she trusts you. You know more about her than anyone."

That certainly was an interesting way to put it, and something Mindy hadn't even considered. "That's really insightful, Mork. But I still haven't got a clue." She twirled her fork around her spaghetti more decisively this time. "Maybe she's only looking for rich parents that can give the place money, I don't know. But I don't think she'd ever want to sell off children like that. Maybe if we did more things to help her out, she'd calm down and start being more open-minded."

That wasn't an immediate solution, though, and the silence on the other end of the table from Mork told her that maybe she should think of something else. "We could...I don't know, we could let some of the children stay here? Eat our food?  If they don't have enough, I mean. They could-"

"Be in our family." Mork finished her sentence, and she looked up from her dish. He was smiling. "Mindy, that's it! We could take one home with us, forever."

"You mean...adopt one?"

"If Ruth trusts you, and she likes me, why wouldn't she?"

"That seems a little sudden, Mork. I wouldn't want to just do that to prove a point to her." 

"It's not for her, it's for us. Mindy, think about it; our family's more than just us. It's this whole town. Every kid here. Our son on Ork. You had to learn how to raise an Orkan child, and you're the best mother there's ever been. I know you'd be fantastic with a kid from Earth."

Mindy realized that this decision hadn't been rushed at all. It was what she'd wanted to hear this whole time. She got up and headed towards the phone, a big beaming smile on her face. "Mork, that's a great idea! One more McConnell to the clan! I'll see if I can set up an appointment with Ruth tomorrow." She dialed the number, which once again went to voicemail. Hopefully Ruth would hear what she had to say soon enough in person.

"Hiya, Ruth? This is Mindy. Mork and I...well, we've finally decided to do something we've been wanting to ask you for for a very long time. We'd like to book an appointment with you over adopting a child from Open Hearts. Our own child. We're very excited to talk with you more about this, and we hope to hear back from you soon." Mindy hung up the phone, and let out a cheer, before jumping up and hugging Mork. She couldn't help it; hurdles or no hurdles with Ruth, this was a big change she was more than happy for.

* * *

 

The next morning, it seemed like Ruth had called Mindy back as soon as she'd woken up. Yes, she'd said, she could meet the both of them early around 9:00. They needed to bring a couple tax documents for income purposes and proof of citizenship, insurance, jobs, and at least three references. It seemed to be a lot to ask at nine in the morning, but Mindy always knew to keep anything with the word 'tax' on it saved and organized, and for the rest she figured she could hand over her insurance card and a list of phone numbers. She let Mork sleep in until the very last minute, not wanting him to go through the ordeal of searching.

Unfortunately, Orkan bedhead was notorious across the galaxy, and he still wasn't able to comb it down in the car by the time they arrived. But true to form, when Ruth opened the door and saw the atomic explosion that was Mork's hair towering above their heads, she only blinked. "Well then," she said, in a very reserved tone. "I suppose you're here, all three of you."

Mindy looked around, then realized what she was talking about. Ruth confirmed it. "Mork, will you, your wife, and your hair please step into the foyer? Lucky for you the ceilings aren't too low."

They walked along, Mindy grimacing internally at the jarring sound of Ruth's high heels loudly clacking across the wooden floor this early in the morning. Some of the children were already up, probably at breakfast in the kitchen. 

"If you don't mind, Ruth, why don't we talk more in the living room?" Mindy suggested, once she saw Ruth was heading directly towards the sealed-off room again. "I'd honestly prefer it. Do you mind if Mork, er, tries fixing-?"

"The bathroom's down the hall to the left. Definitely treat yourself to breakfast too, if you haven't already." she offered kindly. Mindy smiled, grateful as Mork headed off down the hall. She'd needed a moment with Ruth alone.

"Ruth," she started to say, putting her folder of papers down, but had to be silent again as Ruth gave a loud yawn.

"Sorry." Ruth apologized. "I waited on my morning coffee to start this meeting."

"Oh, go right ahead."

"No, it's really best if we get this over with." She put her head in her hands, which Mindy felt was not the most reassuring gesture. "Now Mindy," Ruth said, as she lifted herself up swiftly. "you understand that this isn't something anyone should do on a whim? Not like adopting a puppy or anything?"

"No, of course not. We wouldn't have asked for this meeting unless we were 100% sure about everything." she said.

"Yes, but I'm not so sure." Ruth disagreed, and opened the folder, sliding her glasses further down her nose to read. "Many people who come here are 100% sure they can afford the costs of caring for a child properly - until I tell them the expenses I've been paying. Then they back down or want a compromise."

"I know what you've been paying. I've been helping you with it." Mindy replied.

"Some of these children need regular therapy."

"Our insurance checks out with most providers."

"They need parents who are experienced at dealing with multiple emotional issues."

"I believe I told you I had a son? I raised him to adulthood," Mindy added, "and I'm aware of the emotional problems a growing child may face." She negated the fact that he had been in adulthood three years ago when he was still a baby. Most of these children were walking and talking on their own, anyway. 

Many of Ruth's arguments against it seemed to be running out. In fact, now she was pointing out good arguments Mindy hadn't even considered. "Most would say that they want a child to complete their family. As if they're not confident enough in what they have already. But you seem the opposite; you've been all about the children for their own sake from the moment you first came in to work with me, and I respect that."

"Thank you. I had a couple concerns I wanted to mention, while we're in private." Mindy said, figuring now while she was feeling brave was as good a time as any. "You had turned a couple away before us, and claimed they weren't ready to handle children. I was curious whether or not you meant emotionally or in a financial sense. Money. Mork and I maybe don't have much as others around town, but we have a good home and we're good people. I just really hoped that you consider love and support when you think about the right family for a child, instead of only salaries."

Ruth had finishing flipping through the packet of material at this point, and shut the file, sliding it back across the table to Mindy. "You're right. I knew you'd be smart enough to bring that up. I know it's true. I may be hard-edged and hard-faced, but I'm not heartless."

"Never did I once say you were, Ruth. I believe you have a great heart to look after these children." Mindy replied. Ruth sighed, and slid her glasses back up her nose, shutting her eyes. Mindy could tell there was going to be more of a story here, and she was right.

"My parents were rich. My parents were model members of the community. My parents were giving and graceful and a pinnacle of stature. All that nonsense. I never was. And nobody ever saw them for who they really were, how they were towards me. Harsh and judgmental and cruel and controlling. They never should have had me, and save for my status as continuing a family line a tradition, they never wanted me. I never trust people who only flaunt status and wealth. And I never double-cross anyone. I'm always honest. I told them I would be leaving home the first chance I got, and they shouldn't even bother to give me their stinking fortune. And I did. I married a piano player, and we lived together for years in hotel room after hotel room.

"After my parents died, I found out through a phone call from their lawyer that they had left me everything. The fortune, the house...I told him to give it all to charity. I didn't want it. I never asked them for it. I never wanted to set foot in that awful place again. This place." Ruth looked around, looking straight through Mindy, almost looking back in time. "But then my husband died. I married an old philanthropist named Tom Milligan with wealth of his own. He didn't even know I was rich myself until the wedding day. He didn't even know how young I still was. But I left the house alone for three years. Until he lost everything. And then he started getting sick. And I got even older. I moved him back in here, and did everything I could to help him. And, well, you can assume the rest. I got complacent, I thought he was getting better. I invested my time and fortune into turning this awful place into a heaven for children instead of my hell. I got complacent. I got ambitious. I wasn't prepared. And then he died."

She sat back, leaning into the couch. "I think it all has a meaning. Not a divine one. But I was meant to be a mother, or a teacher, or whatever I am. I was meant to fix things for these children, so they wouldn't end up like me."

She remained silent for some time. Only one thought came into Mindy's mind, and she said it without hesitation. "I think after everything you've done, despite all you've been through - all these children should want to be like you. Or to at least have the courage and the drive that you do. I'm not just saying that."

Ruth nodded, and Mindy thought she saw either a reflective speck of light or a small tear in Ruth's eye through her glasses. "I know. I appreciate that. I think I don't need to see anything else from either one of you. All that's left is to see which child wants you, and to help you take them home."

Mindy was so overjoyed, she almost started crying herself. "Thank you. Thank you so much." As Ruth smiled and got up from the couch, Mindy followed her out of the room to wherever she imagined she was leading her next. But as they got further down the hall, Ruth turned around and stopped her.

"Not with me. Go eat some breakfast first. I'll be right out. There's just something I have to take care of."

"Might I ask what?"

"Sleep! I haven't had my coffee and I just told you the most painful story of my life. What did you expect?" Despite the snappy tone, Ruth laughed. "I'm all tuckered out, and now you've got the real work ahead of you. Just remember; the kids come first, understand? They have to pick you, not the other way around." Before Mindy could respond, Ruth gave another yawn again, stretching a tiny fist out into the air. "Jesus." she grumbled at the end of it, shaking her head and walking into the first available bedroom she saw before slamming the door behind her. Mindy headed back out into the kitchen, still confused but very happy to be moving forward. Now where was Mork?

 

The initial hour meeting she had planned for turned into an all-day event, as Mork couldn't help playing with the kids for the rest of the morning until lunch, and Ruth was still apparently asleep. So, in fact, was Molly, Or hiding again. Maybe she'd gotten wind of another adoption coming up.

She had told Mork everything, in the breaks in between having fun with the kids. They knew they needed to decide which child to actually set their sights on, but all of them were so fun and smart and adorable that Mindy for the life of her couldn't pick just one. But as the afternoon drew closer, she pulled Mork aside in the hallway while the kids were finishing up their sandwiches. They still needed some ideas.

"So, what do you think? Boy or girl?" she asked.

"Can't we just go buy a pan flute and take them all home with us?" he joked.

"I know. But we decided only one. I'm kinda leaning towards a girl myself. One boy, one girl, it's kind of the nuclear family thing, isn't it? What am I saying? We've never been a regular nuclear family." Mindy laughed.

"Nuclear families aren't even regular. Not even for an alien family with twelve heads and seventeen eyeballs between them."

"Let's just narrow it down slightly. Emily's adorable, right? What about Harry?"

"Or Sue or Paul. John, George. Hey, maybe we could adopt four..."

"We're not forming the Beatles, Mork." Mindy laughed. "Let's be serious, come on..."

Just then, as some muffled sounds came from the door behind them, Mindy remembered. Molly hadn't been with them all day. Was she all right? Did Ruth know?

"Hold on a second, Mork. Let me see this." Mindy carefully pried the door slightly ajar and knelt down behind it, just so she could hear what was going on. It sounded like Molly was talking again, to someone else. And going by the head count, it had to be Ruth.

Still, it didn't seem like they'd been talking for long. "Molly, you know the McConnells. You can trust them. They- oh, I can see I'm getting nowhere with this." Ruth said exasperatedly. Mindy heard a creak, as one of them sat down on a bed nearby. "Just tell me why you wouldn't come out for the Munsons either. It wasn't the red hair, was it?"

"No." Molly muttered, obviously reluctant and scared. Mindy held her breath, careful not to make any sound since the girl was so quiet. But then she heard something that took all her strength not to start tearing up at. "The lady had a cross 'round her neck. Cross of God. I got scared. God killed Mommy and Daddy in that fire. It wasn't their fault. Neighbors said it wasn't their faults neither. Had to have been God's fault. I'm scared of him. If I go with anyone like God, he'll get me next."

She then heard the weight shift on the bed, as springs creaked, and an even more muffled sound of little Molly sobbing into Ruth. "Oh honey, it ain't God's fault." said Ruth, in a sadder tone than she'd ever heard even when she was discussing her own history. "You don't have to be afraid of him. Or even believe in him if you want to."

"Then-" Molly pulled her head up and was still sounding very choked up. "Then whose was?"

"Most of the time, these things are nobody's fault. Looking for someone to blame doesn't fix the problem or make things better. Life throws bad things at you over and over again. That's just part of life. It isn't God, it isn't fate, it isn't karma. It's only the way things are."

Molly sniffled, and Mindy heard Ruth pat her loudly on the back. "Then maybe I don't want to be alive."

Mindy wasn't sure how she'd even respond if she'd been asked to help Molly after a statement like that, but Ruth seemed to have the perfect mix of concern and lecture. "That's not the way you fight back. You want to fight back, right? Then live your life. Life's worth it. Good things will happen in life the longer you live it, things better than you can even imagine right now. They'll happen to you, so long as you keep living, and fighting past the bad. I've been through a lot of bad-" The weight shifted again, and Molly sniffed as Ruth held her. "A lot of bad times, girl. But I got the good things in the end. I got my home. I got my kids. And I got you."

It was a whole before Molly spoke again, but she seemed to have realized something. "So life ain't all good...or all bad. It's not that good, but not that bad?"

"Better." Ruth must have let go, because Mindy heard at least one of them hop off the bed onto the floor. "Much better. You just need to see everything through to the end. That makes sense, right? Life is worth it, I promise."

Mindy had felt she'd pried enough. She shut the door and silently began crying. She had even forgotten about Mork being there, until she felt him hug her and held onto him for dear life. "We're adopting her." Mindy told him, immediately once she could talk again. "If Ruth's willing to part from her, and if she wants us...I want her to be our daughter."

* * *

 Once Ruth had come back out to the parlor, Mindy took her aside to discuss the idea. Molly would need a lot of care and patience, but she was more than ready to put in the effort. She figured she knew what Ruth would tell her, anyway: ultimately it was Molly's choice.

Mork meanwhile knew he couldn't just sit and wait. Most of the sandwiches from lunchtime had run out. If Molly was going to be their daughter, the first step in taking care of her would be making sure she had something to eat. Mork went down the hall into the room, and knocked on the door.

"Housekeeping." he said, in a little voice. He wasn't sure Molly would even crack a smile at that, but it was worth a shot. No response. He changed to a deeper voice. "Delivery for Molly McConnell; one nervous potential father with a gift."

No noise from the other end, but nothing telling him to go away either. He opened the door. Molly was still sitting on the bed, looking very confused.

"Hi there." he said, smiling. "You feeling all right, Mols? You haven't been out all day."

Molly shrugged, looking at her shoes. "Y'all were having fun. Didn't need me there."

"Are you kidding? How could we have a good time without you?" Mork went over to her. "I brought you something."

Molly looked around either side of him, then at his empty hands. "Where? What is it?"

"Hmm...I think you can picture it in your mind already. Let me just get it outside-" Mork reached behind her head, and pulled out a small tied bunch of daisies. "Here it is!" Molly's eyes were wide, but then she actually managed to form a tiny smile. He handed them over to her. 

"That's some imagination. I don't suppose you have the key to Fort Knox in there, do you?"

Molly giggled. "These are nice." she said, holding them close. "Never got a gift since Christmas."

"If you can keeping thinking of more, I'll give you flowers every week."

"I know it's a trick. But thanks." Molly set them down. "I'm hungry."

"I'll bet. I don't think you've eaten since Christmas."

"Sure feels like it." She hopped off the bed. "Come on, Mork. I wanna make some pancakes. Wanna share 'em?"

"Hey, all right. Sounds fab, but...doesn't that mean going through the kitchen?"

"Yeah?" She looked at him quizzically.

 "Oh, hey, no problem here. That's my favorite room in the whole house. But I heard from someone else that you weren't a fan. Sure you'll be all right?"

Molly thought about it for a while. "Yeah. Even using the stove'll be fine as long as you're cooking."

"Now you're talking. I'm a real big chef at home. Not as good as Mindy. But I'll need you to be my sous-chef, okay?" Molly nodded. "Great! And I'll need an apron and a real fluffy hat." Molly had immediately cheered up, holding Mork's hand as they walked down the hall, past Mindy and Ruth, who stopped to watch.

"Mork, Molly, you're going to the kitchen?" Mindy asked, happily surprised. 

"Pancakes!" Molly cheered. "Big blueberry pancakes!"

 "That's wonderful, Molly. Give me two minutes and I'll come in and help you both cook, okay?" said Mindy. She turned to Ruth. "If that's all right, I mean."

Instead of answering right away, Ruth directed her question at Molly. "Molly - Mindy and Mork are very interested in adopting a little girl from here, and they like you very much. Do you think you'd like living with them? Being a part of their family?"

Molly considered it for a good long while, swinging her arm as she held onto Mork's hand. "Yeah," she replied "it wouldn't be all bad. If there's pancakes." Then she took off running towards the kitchen down the hall, pulling Mork behind her. "Let's go, Mork, let's go! I'm hungry!"

Mindy laughed as they went. "She's going to be a breath of fresh air in our home." she said to Ruth. "Thank you so much."

"We still need to submit paperwork to the state department before we can let her go home with you, but it'll be the first big step. Congratulations." Ruth said, extending her hand. Mindy shook it, and then proceeded to pull her in for a hug.

"Thank you, Ruth. Thank you so much for everything."

* * *

 

"Mork calling Orson, come in Orson. Mork calling Orson..."

The world shifted to black, and then technicolor. Mork was back inside his mind, where Orson's presence hovered overhead. Literally, over-head, waiting. And there was someone else there, too. "Hiya, Pop!" he heard Mearth's voice say.

"Mearth! How's it going, how've you been? It's been weeks - no, months! Tell me everything!" Mork was so excited, he even forgot about the giant head floating in front of him. "Oh, hi to you too, Orson? Do you mind calling back later? Oh, wait, no, wait, I called you-"

"Mearth's shadowing me, Mork. It's part of his job description. I'm hoping once all's said and done, he'll be my new successor."

"Well, hey, that's wonderful, Orson. You having fun up there, Mearth?"

"Sure, Pop. How are things going down on Earth?"

"Well, you really aren't going to believe this...you've got a new sister, Mearth."

"Six months with you two alone - I can believe it." said Mearth. "Blegh."

"How did this happen, Mork?" Orson asked, just as confused. "You couldn't have had another child without letting me know."

"Well, Orson, that's just what my report's about this week. Adoption." Mork clarified. "You see, adoption happens when a child on Earth isn't able to be raised by his or her parents. They go to live with other children, hopefully in a big house with lots of toys and food. And good people looking after them. Until a couple who wants children can come in, and decide to raise them as part of their family. Which is what we've done."

"A lot of communal living colonies are the exact same way up here." said Orson. "Is the same thing common for humans, or unusual?"

"Well, sir, it's complicated. Many children have homes, but some don't necessarily have the best ones for them to grow in. Sometimes their parents can't take care of them. Other times, they won't. It's very sad, and it's sadder still when children go for years without being adopted by anyone."

"Why is that, Mork?"

"Well sir, some people still think adopting children is inferior to having their own, which isn't true at all. I've done both now. For me adoption is just as rewarding as seeing your own child be born and grow up. And in a way, they are yours, Sir. And parents can learn a lot from their children."

"What have you learned from yours, Mork?"

"Well, her name's Molly. I learned that already. She's quiet and shy, but very loud and fun. She loves talking to people, but it takes her a while to warm up to them. She loves cooking, gardening, playing with toys and baseballs. Some other children give her a hard time, but it isn't their fault. Their parents sometimes teach them things that aren't right. I try telling her every day that she can do the same things as everyone else. But she knows that already. And in return, she teaches me every day about forgiveness and strength. She may be little, but she's very strong, Sir."

"Hm. I see." Orson pondered. He couldn't imagine an Earth girl being able to lift more than her own body weight, but stranger things had certainly happened before. "Very interesting, Mork. I'd like you to run some tests to see what kind of differences there are between an Earth child and an Orkan child."

"Already I can tell you sir, there's not much difference. Sure, they look different, but inside she and Mearth are probably more closely related than anyone else I know. She really is part of the family. You haven't met her yet Mearth, but I know you would love her. Orson...you wouldn't mind giving Mearth a couple vacation days and some time off? We'd really love to see him again. And Molly would too."

"Please Orson, can I?" Mearth asked. 

Orson was silent. Mearth seemed to barely be able to contain his excitement. Mork chimed in.

"Sir, the thing about our family is...no matter how good we are by ourselves, we're better together. You'd get a much better performance from Mearth at work if you let him take a break and come home every once in a while."

"Many Orkan families consider it an honor for their children to be away studying for years. You don't want that?"

"I think more than anything else, I want my son to be happy, Sir. Don't you?"

After another long while of pondering, Orson relented. "I think we can allow for some time off. Be sure not to keep him away too long. And send me more reports of this family of yours. It seems to be growing larger and more powerful every day."

Mork saluted the big head, and giant smile on his face. "You can count on me, sir! Mearth, can't wait to have you home."

"So long, Pop!"

"This is Mork McConnell, ambassador of Earth, signing off. Until next time - from all of us."


End file.
